When I was but an intern reporter at a daily newspaper, I got an assignment I'll never forget. Due to a lack of drainage in the South Valley, even a little bit of precipitation sent rivers of rainwater up to and beyond doorsteps. A big rain for one of my eventual sources meant moving the kids out to the camper to sleep because the water level in his house was higher than the electrical outlets.

Dateline: New Zealand—A pregnant woman arrested on her eighth drunk driving offense couldn’t be sentenced because she was too drunk in court. Rachel Brown, 28, registered nearly 2 1/2 times the legal limit on a breath alcohol test when she was arrested last July at a police checkpoint in the North Island city of Rotorua. At the time, she was seven months pregnant. After her arrest, Brown told police she was driving because she was “the least pissed” of the three people in the vehicle. Brown was due in court for sentencing last week but failed to show. A warrant was issued for her arrest, but police spotted Brown near the courthouse and took her back there. Rotorua District Court Judge James Weir held over sentencing, however, when he realized Brown was having trouble standing. Witnesses said she had been drinking wine with friends outside the courthouse. The judge remanded Brown into overnight custody so she could sober up before her sentencing. The next day, Brown was sentenced to at least six months in jail. She has never held a driver’s license and was banned in 2005 from ever getting one. The baby that Brown was pregnant with when she was arrested last year is in the care of a family member.

I just had the good fortune to leave my job as a police reporter in a crime-infested cesspool, in a state affectionately referred to by its residents as “The Buckle on the Bible Belt.”

Normally a high crime rate and the authorities’ penchant for locking everyone up would equate to job security. But the local Powers That Be didn’t approve of my total coverage approach to journalism (John, we need you to stop writing about it every time we shoot someone).

After being diagnosed with several mental illnesses and high cholesterol, I packed my laptops into my Yaris and moved back to Albuquerque to search for any kind of anonymous hack work with which to pay the bills (and smack dab in the middle of a recession—my nervous breakdowns have impeccable timing).

In case you didn’t know, ’70s comedy sensations Cheech and Chong have reunited and are playing the Sandia Casino on Friday, May 22, beginning at 8 p.m. If you haven’t purchased your tickets yet (and they ain’t cheap), you’ll be pleased to note that longtime University area poster shop Louie’s Rock-N-Reels (105 Harvard SE) will be raffling off a pair of tickets to see the big show. The drawing will take place on Thursday, May 21, at 7 p.m. at the store across from UNM campus. Get in there before then to register! ... Of course, if you don’t win the tickets, you can always come to Guild Cinema on Friday and Saturday night to catch Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong in all their cinematic glory. Alibi Midnight Movie Madness will be presenting the duo’s 1978 stoner comedy debut Cheech and Chong’s Up In Smoke beginning at 10:30 p.m. both nights. Super fans are encouraged to attend both the concert and the movie screening. Bring your ticket stubs from the Sandia show, flash them at the Guild box office and you’ll get $2 off the admission price on Friday or Saturday night.

We might be slightly embarrassed to admit it, but there are many of us out there who crank up the volume on the car radio when "Follow You Down" comes on The Peak. Yes, friends, the Blossoms we call Gin are coming to Albuquerque.

On Monday, May 25, Burque’s long-worshipped cult of raunchy rock will make its final boobie-jiggling, gravy-covered appearance. Steve Eiland and his demonic Beefcake in Chains will slip and slide all over the Launchpad stage for the last time with The Meatmen, Chapstik and Spin Dry Kittins. The concluding descent into madness starts at 9:30 p.m. 21+ only. Duh. (Laura Marrich)

There's no one way to be a female artist these days, as evidenced by what's going on around town this week. This 21st-century world is our oyster, and oyster may or may not be a metaphor for lady parts and birth; it’s totally up to us.